


Boricha

by mnabokov



Series: 176° Centigrade (世界) [4]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnabokov/pseuds/mnabokov
Summary: Seoul, again.





	Boricha

When it comes to bubble tea, Sehun is a purist.  
  
Loose-leaf tea steeped for seven minutes, organic milk -- preferably from grass-fed cows -- with perfectly cooked honey boba: the ingredients for success. He steeps his own tea and cooks his own boba. (If he could milk his own cows, he would; don’t doubt it.) He likes bubble tea. These are facts.  
  
Here are also some facts that may be relevant, in no particular order:  
  
1\. Sehun loves Italy. Yeah, so he only spent a few weeks there, and was held hostage by an international hitman for half the time, but objectively speaking, Seungri was pretty okay, so it wasn’t a _terrible_ time. (That compartmentalization thing? Sehun’s working on it.) The point is, Italy was gorgeous and the food was fantastic and everything was wonderful up until he and Jongin had to sneak out of the country by boat.  
  
2\. Sehun likes Jongin. Enough that he’d followed Jongin out of Sicily in the middle of the night (they may or may not have enlisted the help of the local mafia -- at that point Sehun had stopped trying to keep track of all of Jongin’s contacts and the favors he was pulling) on boat, across a narrow strait to the African country of Tunisia. They had enjoyed local lamb couscous and lablabi (a thick chickpea stew flavored with cumin and garlic and olives) while Jongin called Seungri off of a disposable phone.  
  
3\. They spent three weeks and five days abroad.  
  
4\. Sehun likes Jongin. Like, a lot.  
  
5\. Sehun is, among other things, a bubble tea connoisseur.  
  
6\. Three weeks and five days is a long time without bubble tea.  
  
So long, in fact, that the first thing Sehun makes them do after landing in Incheon is get bubble tea. Good bubble tea.  
  
Sehun moans loudly into his taro milk tea.  
  
“The things I do for you,” Jongin mumbles as they peel onto the road.  
  
“Don’t act like you didn’t do the same when you saw the car,” Sehun says. Jongin had jogged quickly to his Mustang as soon as he saw it in the parking lot and ran two palms lovingly over its hood. _Obsessed_. Honestly.  
  
“I didn’t _moan_ ,” Jongin flushes.  
  
Sehun moans again, throaty and suggestive and annoying. Hah.  
  
“Why can’t you make sounds like that in bed?” Jongin complains, but he reaches across the center console anyway as he peels expertly onto the road. He holds his hand out.  
  
Sehun takes Jongin’s hand. Jongin winces -- Sehun’s hand is icy cold from holding his bubble tea. “I’m not going to answer questions you already know the answer to.”  
  
Apparently, Jongin doesn’t feel like listening to Sehun berate his sexual prowess today, because he just smiles faintly -- he knows as well as Sehun that, contrary to this conversation, Sehun is in fact very loud in bed -- and squeezes Sehun’s hand, uncaring of the cold.  
  
The familiar sights of the Seoul landscape almost seem unfamiliar; three weeks away forces Sehun to look at his surroundings in a new light, take in the shape of the buildings, the feel of the streets again as he’s learning anew.  
  
It feels even stranger pulling up to Sehun’s place.  
  
“You wanted to call Luhan, right? Do you have service now?” Jongin asks, parking the car.  
  
The car doors open and close. Jongin grabs their things -- minus his suitcase, since apparently he gifted that (plus expensive cufflinks and two iPads, what the actual fuck) to the youth of Venice -- and Sehun opens the front door for him.  
  
“I thought Heechul said -- ”  
  
“Fuck Heechul,” Jongin says easily, carrying their things across the threshold. “Call him now. He must be worried.”  
  
Sehun had left Luhan a hasty voicemail and a plea to not call the police when they were in Sicily.  
  
Sehun’s about to reply when a third voice goes, “I don’t think Heechul would be pleased to hear that.”  
  
Jongin flinches violently, bags falling to the floor. Sehun nearly screams.  
  
“Jesus,” Sehun swears, walking up to Jiyong and stabbing a finger toward his chest, “Don’t you ever fucking do that again.”  
  
Jiyong smirks.  
  
Jongin kicks a fallen bag further into the house. “How did you get here?” he asks faintly.  
  
“I followed you halfway across the world with nothing but a _name_ , Jongin, and a wrong one at that. How hard do you think it is to find an address?”  
  
Jongin rolls his eyes and closes the front door.  
  
“Sit down,” Jiyong says, crossing his legs and picking at a bowl of roasted peanuts like he owns the fucking house. Sehun glares. He still hates him. “You owe me money.”  
  
  
  
(1. They left Sicily under the cover of the dark night, just Sehun and Jongin and a bag of their things and a lingering regret for the little pocket of peace they were leaving.  
  
That had been easy enough, with Sofia’s help.  
  
It’s fact Number 2 that’s a little more interesting.  
  
2\. They had enjoyed local lamb couscous and lablabi while Jongin called Seungri off of a disposable phone.  
  
It went something like this:  
  
The phone rings for six long tones before Seungri picks up.  
  
“Hello?” Seungri says, voice tinny over speakerphone.  
  
“Hi,” Jongin says. Sunlight glares off of the whitewashed adobe buildings. They’re sitting in an outdoor shop -- Sehun and Jongin are fond of open air vacinities, which probably has something to do with how much time they spend inside working. Jongin motions for the tab and pays with a discreet black card.  
  
“Who is this?” Seungri asks.  
  
“Is this Seunghyun? Put Jiyong on the line, will you?”  
  
“Jongin? What are you -- ”  
  
Apparently, Jongin had met both Jiyong and Seungri (Seunghyun to Jongin, apparently, since only Stockholm-level captivity-cum-friendship can unlock nicknames when it comes to professional hitmen) before, through business transactions and dealings in EXO.  
  
Jongin clears his throat. “Just put him on the line, please.”  
  
There’s a muffled conversation and the phone switches hands. “Hi Jongin,” Jiyong says waspishly, “I’m a little busy right now. Can we chat about your problems later?”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Jongin says, as a waiter comes back with the receipt, “Are you in Italy?”  
  
“Who told you?”  
  
“Who are you looking for?”  
  
“Do you have a hundred thousand dollars lying around? Because that’s what it’s gonna cost you, kid.”  
  
“You’re selling yourself cheap there, Jiyong. I know you got paid more to keep this case tight.”  
  
Silence. “The fuck you want, Jongin? What’s Namki’s son calling me through one of my men for?”  
  
“You’re tracking Kai now, right?”  
  
Jiyong splutters out a protest but Jongin pushes on. “Tell Seunghyun to take out his computer. If the last transaction on Kai’s card ending with 4022 isn’t from a shop in Tunisia, then I'll hang up and leave you alone.”  
  
3\. They spent 3 weeks and 2 days in Italy, and one and a half days in Tunisia. The rest was travel.  
  
The one and a half days in Tunisia is enough time for Jiyong to fly over and exclaim, “What the everloving fuck, Kim Jongin,” several times in Jongin’s face.  
  
Here’s how _that_ went down:  
  
Jongin picks up Jiyong (only Jiyong, because apparently there was only space for one seat on a last minute flight that he’d booked) at the Carthage airport and drives him back down to the hotel room that he and Sehun are sharing.  
  
“What the fuck,” he says flatly in the car. “What the fuck.”  
  
“We broke him,” Sehun says, pleased.  
  
“Please don’t,” Jongin says.  
  
“Look,” Jongin says. At the only desk in the hotel room -- really, hotel rooms in this part of Tunisia are meant for people to go out and enjoy the beach, not sit down and discuss the details of an international manhunt -- they sit to discuss.  
  
“Look, tell me why my father hired you.”  
  
“I deserve to be paid more than this,” Jiyong says. He’s wearing his designer sunglasses as usual, and looks extremely annoyed. “I only chased you halfway down the fucking globe because that idiot Sun told me that you were the one that -- ”  
  
“So Namki _did_ hire you,” Sehun mutters.  
  
“I _am_ Kai,” Jongin says, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You knew I was on business trips all the time -- ”  
  
“You’re the playboy son of a CEO,” Jiyong interjects, “How was I supposed to know you were actually doing work?”  
  
“Call it off,” Sehun interrupts coldly. “You’re after the wrong guy. Obviously you couldn’t tell, since you let Sun slip right through your fingers.”  
  
“You’re still here?” Jiyong raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Hey,” Sehun snaps, “I disabled your tracker and escaped from your supposedly world-class henchmen.”  
  
“Because I _let_ you.”  
  
Sehun gives him his best bitch face. “You’re really starting to annoy me.”  
  
Jongin, predictably, brings them back on track. “So what did Sun tell you? And how did you find Sun?”  
  
Jiyong turns away from his argument with Sehun reluctantly. He crosses his arms. “Namki wanted me to find the whistleblower -- the one who leaked all of EXO’s files. He thought that finding the leak would take away from your scandals -- nice move, by the way,” Jiyong directs toward Jongin. “Anyway, I followed the trail to Sun, who told me about a trip to Italy.” Jiyong shrugs. “And the rest you know.”  
  
Sehun looks at Jongin across the table. By mutual understanding, they nod.  
  
“Fantastic,” Jongin says, standing up abruptly. “See you soon, Jiyong. Safe travels back to -- wherever.”  
  
Sehun stands up as well, and hastily grabs their things, making way to the hotel door.  
  
“What, that’s it?” Jiyong interjects, standing up as well. “You drag me all the way out here to talk for thirty fucking minutes?”  
  
“Thirty minutes too much,” Sehun snaps. “Fuck off, Kwon.”  
  
“Feisty. Now, you do realize that someone still owes me money, correct?”  
  
As they’re exiting the hotel room, Sehun calls over his shoulder. “Later!”)  
  
  
  
“Pay up,” Jiyong says, popping another peanut into his mouth. He’s still wearing his sunglasses, even though they’re all indoors. “I don’t give a fuck who sold out EXO, or what. I just have bills to pay, and I’m here to collect what your father owes me.”  
  
“Is Seungri here?” Sehun interrupts. “We’d rather talk to him instead. He’s nicer.”  
  
Jongin says calmly, “Your business was with my father. If you need something, you talk to him.”  
  
“Well, apparently not anymore. Have you seen the old man, by the way?”  
  
“We just landed in Korea,” Jongin says through gritted teeth. “We haven’t seen anyone.”  
  
Sehun huffs in annoyance and goes to the stove. He needs to bake something, or his stress levels will go through the roof, and he’ll _actually_ develop aneurysms. Almond cookies, it is.  
  
“Kim Namki refuses to see me,” Jiyong spits out. “We had a _deal_ , and your father refuses to honor it.”  
  
Mung bean flour, powdered sugar, almond powder, peanut flour, and salt goes into a large bowl, which Sehun whisks together, determinedly not looking in the general direction of Jiyong, lest those pesky aneurysms come into being.  
  
“I haven’t spoken to him about this yet,” Jongin says calmly. “I was a little preoccupied with the fact that Kwon Jiyong was sent to kill me -- ”  
  
“Firstly, I’m flattered. Secondly, I was not hired to _kill_ you.”  
  
Sehun adds in coconut oil and peanut butter. The resulting mixture ends up crumbly and dry, but holds together quite well when squeezed.  
  
Jongin continues, “But I believe that if you hold up your end of the deal, you will be paid.”  
  
Jiyong eyes Jongin suspiciously. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  
  
“Take it or leave it,” Sehun says. “And if you decide to leave it, you leave my house too. I don’t care if you’re an assassin or not, I'll kick you out.”  
  
Jiyong goes, “That would be decidedly more threatening if you weren’t greasing a cupcake tray.”  
  
Jongin’s lip twitches. “I don’t think he’s joking.”  
  
In a legendary feat of unorthodoxy, Jiyong takes off his sunglasses. “If I find the real culprit -- the real person who let out those EXO files -- you’ll pay me, instead of your father.”  
  
“The same amount,” Jongin agrees. “And I'll cover all of your expenses. Airfare included.”  
  
The sunglasses slide back down. Sehun presses the cookie mixture into each cup.  
  
“It’s always a pleasure doing business with the Kims,” Jiyong smirks. “You never know what you’ll end up getting into.”  
  
After Jiyong leaves, Sehun pops the tray into the oven. “Are you sure this is the best idea?” Sehun asks. “Hiring Jiyong? You haven’t talked to your father yet.”  
  
Jongin sighs. “And I’m sure he wouldn’t care. I went through the files -- he hired Jiyong more than three weeks ago, then never checked in with Jiyong again. He gets like that -- with all of his projects, he’ll start and then never finish. Besides, you saw what Heechul did.”  
  
“Point,” Sehun admits.  
  
Heechul had done an impressive bit of maneuvering and manipulating -- both with people, paperwork, and the media -- to prove Jongin’s innocence in relation to the EXO scandal. From what Sehun can understand, Heechul had pulled a massive rearranging of the leaked files and names, backpropagating from the data to show how Jongin had been only superficially involved with EXO.  
  
“I’m still going to talk to my father though,” Jongin reassures. “I just -- don’t think that it’d be any time soon.”  
  
Sehun hums.  
  
  
  
Seoul, again.  
  
Jongin goes back to work first.  
  
It feels strange.  
  
Primarily, because of everything that they’d gone through, in the past three weeks. But also because of the fact that, in Italy, they’d lived together every day, had eaten together every meal. And now they’re back in Korea, with separate houses and separate lives and Sehun -- despite how much he claims that he is an independent man -- feels like he’s desperately trying to fill the holes that Jongin so easily filled abroad.  
  
First, Sehun calls Luhan.  
  
Ten minutes after Luhan picks up, there’s an incessant ringing of the front door. Sehun hangs up and rolls his eyes as he opens the front door.  
  
“You didn’t have to come over -- ” Sehun manages to get out, but then he’s cut off when Luhan leaps forward and wrestles Sehun in a hug.  
  
“You’re fucking insane,” Luhan sniffles into Sehun’s shoulder. “God, you psycho, I can’t believe you left me to get chased by an assassin in Italy, _Jesus_ \-- ”  
  
Luhan sucks up his tears and blearily accepts an almond cookie that Sehun offers in apology.  
  
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Sehun says softly. “And I did call you.”  
  
Luhan punches Sehun in the shoulder, but his heart isn’t into it, because it doesn’t even hurt. “I know,” Luhan inhales. “I’m just being a baby.”  
  
Sehun smiles despite himself, and takes a cookie for himself. Minseok, luckily, is still in China, and as a result, has missed the entirety of Sehun’s harrowing adventure.  
  
“Unlucky for him,” Luhan chirps, chewing on his cookie. Even though they’ve known each other for years, Luhan’s ability to swing from blubbering to cheerful still astounds Sehun. “I swear, this would be such a good plot for a drama, Sehun.”  
  
After about three more cookies, Luhan’s back to his bubbly self, going on about Minseok’s work and puppies that he saw on Snapchat.  
  
“Anyway,” he says after a bit, “What about you? When are you going back to work?”  
  
“Soon,” Sehun says. “At the moment, everyone thinks I’m gone with tuberculosis.”  
  
Luhan snorts. “Should’ve gone with liver disease. What was Jongin’s excuse?”  
  
“The scandal.” Sehun draws his knees up to cross his legs more comfortably. “He goes back to work today, and I'll start next week or so.”  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” Baekhyun says, slapping a stack of files onto Jongin’s desk not five minutes after Jongin walks into the office. “You look like shit, boss.”  
  
Some things never change.  
  
Dryly, Jongin goes, “Thanks, Baekhyun.”  
  
Baekhyun shuts the door and pulls out the chair in front of Jongin’s desk. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Not as underpaid employee to Mr. Kim, but as Baekhyun the longsuffering and merciful friend to Jongin the idiot?”  
  
Jongin looks up. “You think you’re underpaid?”  
  
“Of course not,” Baekhyun hisses, scandalized. “My mother thinks that I secretly work for a drug cartel, that’s how much I make. Which, by the way, may or may not be true ever since this EXO shit came out -- care to explain to me this whole mess?”  
  
Jongin’s mouth twists unhappily. “You read the papers,” Jongin doesn’t meet Baekhyun’s inquisitive gaze, “You saw what I did, and it’s true, despite what Heechul might’ve told the press to get them off my tail -- ”  
  
Baekhyun makes a sharp noise of disbelief. “That’s not what I’m asking.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No,” Baekhyun insists. “I don’t give a shit about that -- I’ve been in the corporate sector my whole life, and as soon as the next scandal comes out, everyone will forget about EXO. I’m worried about how you’re dealing with this.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Jongin says dismissively. “You don’t have to worry about me. Businessmen, remember? We live for scandals.” Jongin tries to smile but Baekhyun looks unimpressed.  
  
“Let’s go out to lunch,” he says “You and me. You still owe me Korean barbecue.”  
  
Which is how Jongin finds himself at a seedy bar that night, drinking and moping next to Baekhyun and empty glasses of soju. His stomach’s full from the all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue but he’s already had too many drinks, and he’s pretty messed up despite it being a working night and past happy hour.  
  
“I just -- don’t know what to do,” Jongin mumbles into his glass.  
  
Baekhyun takes a swing from his bottle. “Yeah? Tell me about it, big guy.”  
  
And if Jongin were more sober, maybe he’d be a little suspicious -- but at the moment, right now he just groans pitifully. “I mean this -- this is my life, you know? I should care more -- about who leaked EXO and who Jiyong’s loyal to -- but I don’t give a fuck who sold out EXO.” Jongin slumps forward and Baekhyun pats him on the back, in a soothing, obligatory sort of way. “I’m sick and tired of this paperwork and this drama. I’m not even thirty yet but I already feel like I’m tired of my life.”  
  
Baekhyun peers at him. “What the fuck have you been drinking?”  
  
Jongin looks up blearily. “Soju, same as you. You bought it for me -- you should know, right?”  
  
“Sure,” Baekhyun gestures for another round from the bartender, “Do you see yourself Jongin? You’re at the top of the heap, you moron.”  
  
Jongin groans. “Please stop.”  
  
“What, am I wrong? You have a penthouse, a nice car -- ”  
  
“Yeah, ok,” Jongin says. “And you’re right -- I like it, it’s nice, I won’t lie to you, but it feels like taking what I don’t deserve.”  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun nods decisively, “You’re fucking drunk. I’m taking you home.”  
  
A wolfish, drunken grin spreads slow and saccharine over Jongin’s face. “You wanna go home with me?”  
  
Baekhyun mutters to the bartender and pays for their drinks. “Hell, no.”  
  
“Thanks for paying,” Jongin slurs, “I'll put out for alcohol.”  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun hefts Jongin’s arm over his shoulder and helps him out of the club. “Consider it on the house. I saw too much of what you can put out back in your glory days.”  
  
Cold air bites their skin as they stagger outside. Jongin squints. “My glory days?”  
  
“You know, when you just got into the business and you fucked anything that had two legs.”  
  
“False,” Jongin slurs. “I -- ”  
  
“Right,” Baekhyun drawls, dragging out the vowel, “Anything that had legs and a pulse, I mean.”  
  
Jongin protests, “I wasn’t that bad!”  
  
“Young, rich businessman with a pretty face, daddy issues, and a complex? You’re serious? You had it good. You _have_ it good, man.”  
  
They manage not to hit any heads or appendages as they get into a cab. “Anyway,” Baekhyun says, “I saw too much of what you can do back then. Don’t need it now. Thanks, though. Nice to know that South Korea’s most eligible bachelor would service me for shitty alcohol.”  
  
“You’re my friend,” Jongin sniffs primly, “And who said anything about eligible bachelors?”  
  
Baekhyun gives the address to the driver. “Apparently you haven’t been reading those magazines that Chaeyoung sends you,” he sits back. “Anyway, I would rather not have Sehun castrate me, though.”  
  
On that note, Jongin lurches upright. The taxi driver eyes him suspiciously through the rearview mirror because -- eligible bachelors or not, dry cleaning vomit off of these seats would be no fun.  
  
“I don’t even know where I am with Sehun,” Jongin moans.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean I know him… And he knows me. And -- we don’t -- ” Jongin flushes, embarrassed. “We don’t talk about, you know.”  
  
Baekhyun shoves Jongin out and they stumble into the penthouse.  
  
“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” Baekhyun says. “What the hell are you talking about, Kim Jongin?”  
  
“I mean he understands me so well -- he’s, he’s never had to ask for what I needed… He always knows but I… ” Jongin trails off.  
  
Baekhyun gapes. “You’re saying that you guys know each other so well, but you don't even know if you're dating or not?”  
  
“How can we not be dating,” Jongin says morosely, “He sleeps at my house all the time -- he has twenty percent of his clothes at my house. How can we not be be dating?”  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”  
  
“Are we not dating?” Jongin stands up straight abruptly, panic clear in his voice. “Are we not dating?”  
  
Baekhyun blanches and clearly tries to backtrack. “Does it matter what you are? You love him and he loves you, right?”  
  
Jongin slumps back down and throws up on the carpet.  
  
Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. “I am so not cleaning that up.”  
  
  
  
The impressive mountain of work that’s waiting on Jongin desk prevents him from going out the rest of that week; consequently, almost eight days go by with minimal conversation with Sehun.  
  
Anyway, one day, Heechul comes knocking on Jongin’s door.  
  
“So,” Heechul says, folding himself into the chair in front of Jongin’s desk.  
  
“So,” Jongin echoes.  
  
“Sehun’s back.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“He’s with Yeseul.”  
  
“Yes. I’m not having him work with us again.” Jongin shuffles his papers. “I don’t need any more scrutiny than we already have.”  
  
Heechul looks at him.  
  
“He took the bus to work today,” Jongin says defensively. “I didn’t drive him. Haven’t talked to him for more than a week.”  
  
Heechul crosses his legs. “I didn’t say anything.”  
  
“Jesus,” Heechul says a second later, “We’re a goddamn mess, aren’t we?”  
  
“I think that’s just you.”  
  
“No, I think that’s you too, Jongin.”  
  
Jongin throws his paperwork back down. He can’t work.  
  
“What’s going on,” Jongin asks.  
  
“Well, your father’s upset.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“He says he refuses to talk to you.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Heechul examines his nails. What a dick. “Might I ask why?”  
  
“Because he thinks I should’ve handled the situation better,” Jongin says, bitterly.  
  
Heechul looks up and frowns at that. “It wasn’t your fault to begin with -- he knew what Siwon was -- ”  
  
“It doesn’t matter. I was the one caught and that’s what the media sees.”  
  
“I really don’t think that this should affect -- ”  
  
“Heechul,” Jongin says sharply. “Just -- leave it.”  
  
Heechul writes down something in his notebook carefully and takes his time putting away his pen. “Well, other than that -- he’s preoccupied with trying to expand our dealings into Japan. Legally, that is,” Heechul adds.  
  
“Right.” Jongin rubs his eyes.  
  
“Some celebrity was just caught in a scandal so the media’s fixed on that for now. It seems as though things have settled down for once.”  
  
“But they haven’t,” Jongin guesses with a grimace.  
  
“Well,” Heechul says, “There is the question of Kwon Jiyong.”  
  
Jongin sits back in his chair and folds his fingers over his stomach. “Tell me.”  
  
“You know that he was dealing with your father. Since Namki’s preoccupied with Japan, he wants nothing to do with Jiyong now that the EXO scandal’s blown over. You know that working with Jiyong would look bad for the company.”  
  
“So why doesn’t he just pay Jiyong off?”  
  
“Because he, like you, is a stubborn ass, and thinks that since Jiyong didn't do his job, he doesn’t deserve the money. You know Namki.”  
  
Jongin sighs.  
  
Heechul scratches his temple. “Look, Jongin, I’m telling you this as a friend. Take some time off. Blow off some steam.”  
  
“I was gone for three weeks, that was enough of a vacation. No, I need to keep working. And since my father is dealing with Japan, that means that I have to work in his place. You know that.”  
  
Heechul scrubs his face. He looks like he wants to protest.  
  
“You know I’m right,” Jongin says a bit coldly, “So just leave it.”  
  
“I’m trying to help you.”  
  
“I know,” Jongin says, “I know.”  
  
  
  
Tension is tight in his shoulders. Jongin’s muscles feel cramped.  
  
It’s dark. It’s quiet. After usual working hours, no one left besides Jongin and a few other stragglers scrambling to meet deadlines -- this is what the office is like what Jongin works late again (like usual).  
  
There’s a soft knock at the door. “You’re working late again,” someone says.  
  
Jongin looks up.  
  
It’s the first time he’s seen Sehun in a few days, what with all of the work waiting for him and the way the scheduling worked out. Sehun looks a little tired, but other than that, really good -- his hair’s soft and his tie is deep red, brings out the color of his lips.  
  
“So are you,” Jongin says. He saves and closes his files.  
  
“I came by to drop these off.” Sehun hands over a fan of onion skin papers.  
  
“Thank you,” Jongin says. He’s exhausted, hasn’t been sleeping well for days and has been working too much -- but the sight of Sehun never fails to accelerate the pulse of his blood.  
  
Sehun lingers.  
  
“Did you check them,” Jongin asks.  
  
“I did,” Sehun says. “Though not very well.”  
  
Jongin grins despite himself. “Slacking, Mr. Oh.”  
  
“I need to make sure you aren’t getting lazy, Mr. Kim.” Sehun closes the door behind him and locks it with a definitive click.  
  
“Are you sure that isn’t just an excuse? Look at this. Sloppy work.” Jongin looks up. In a glance, he tries to convey the frustration he feels, and how it should translate into finishing this pile of work, instead of a quick fuck. He may or may not be successful, since he really doesn’t want to finish his work anyway.  
  
Sehun comes over. “That isn’t a mistake.”  
  
“No? Explain this figure then.”  
  
“I will.” Sehun walks over and stands between desk and chair, ass in Jongin’s face.  
  
Jongin swallows. His willpower crumbles.  
  
“…here, and here.” Sehun’s pointing something out, but Jongin’s still on his chair, not even looking at the papers. “Mr. Kim?”  
  
“I can’t believe you made such an amateaur mistake,” Jongin says. He doesn’t even know if Sehun made a fucking mistake but they haven’t seen each other all week and he _needs_ this.  
  
Sehun clears his throat. He turns a bit. Then Jongin reaches out grabs him by the waist and yanks him into the chair, pressing his front against Sehun’s back, their bodies tucked together from Jongin’s sternum against the top knob of Sehun’s spin to the v of Jongin’s legs against Sehun’s pert ass.  
  
“Such an amateur mistake,” Jongin repeats, voice lower.  
  
Sehun squirms in Jongin’s lap. He’s already half-hard -- the little fucker. “Please touch me,” Sehun whimpers. “God, please touch me, it’s been so long -- ”  
  
“I shouldn’t,” Jongin says, breathing heavily. He wants to. Fuck, he wants to so badly. Can’t he have this for himself, for once?  
  
Sehun grinds his ass against Jongin’s crotch. “Mr. Kim.”  
  
“You’ve been so careless,” Jongin tests the waters. He wants to make sure Sehun’s on board for this.  
  
“Yes,” Sehun agrees too fast. Definitely on board, then. “Yes, I have.”  
  
“And I bet you want me to punish you for that,” Jongin continues, pitching his voice deep.  
  
Sehun just nods and Jesus, this is cheesy as fuck. But Jongin’s desperate, his vision already starting to blur; he can only focus on Sehun and it’s like --  
  
It’s pulling up an incognito tab late at night when you’re desperate and half-asleep and reckless with the shame, with want; it’s like the throbbing, aching desire that’s twisted and nasty when you watch 480p, low quality shit with a shaky camera and badly scripted come-ons -- fast and hot and furtive and dirty; a bit shameful and most positively desperate.  
  
“Mr. Kim, please,” Sehun pants. He reaches back and up, laces his hands behind Jongin’s head.  
  
“You’ll have to be quiet for me,” Jongin murmurs. “Can you do that for me, Sehun?”  
  
“Yes, I'll be so good -- I'll be so good,” Sehun babbles.  
  
Jongin pretends to be thoughtful. “I don’t know if you can be. I don’t know if I can touch you. It’s just -- you’re so loud in bed, Sehun. So noisy.”  
  
Sehun shakes his head, and he whines, “I'll be good, I promise.”  
  
“I really shouldn’t,” Jongin repeats, more to himself than anything; but he’s already ghosting three fingers against the lovely bulge in Sehun’s pants and he can’t scrounge up enough willpower to stop.  
  
Sehun bucks up into Jongin’s touch, desperate and clumsy as though he’s not quite sure what to do -- childish --  
  
Jongin slides his hand up, over the metal buckle of Sehun's belt, up his dress shirt, flicking his tie. Desire snaps sharp and brittle between them, like a crystal mirror waiting to be shattered.  
  
“The tie,” Sehun chokes out.  
  
Jongin nips on Sehun’s ear. He’s thinking of how nice it’d be to bend Sehun over the table and play with his ass. “What?”  
  
Sehun flushes in embarrassment.  “Don’t make me say it,” he mutters.  
  
The tie, staying quiet -- it suddenly clicks.  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh, fuck yeah.  
  
“Oh fuck yeah,” Jongin blurts, out of character, breathless and not at all suave, just eager and excited and, “Fuck, can I really?”  
  
“You’re ruining the mood,” Sehun whispers, scowling slightly. He adjusts his legs and presses back firmly on the noticeable protrusion in Jongin’s pants.  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin kisses the shell of Sehun’s ear then schools his expression back into something more authoritative.  
  
“I don’t know if I can be quiet,” Sehun says, with another significant nudge against Jongin’s groin.  
  
“Yeah?” Jongin says, biting a hickey onto the expanse of Sehun’s collarbone. He fucking loves Sehun’s neck, how smooth and delicate and pale the skin is. He lavishes his tongue across the bruising skin. “If you can’t control yourself, maybe I'll have to control your mouth for you.”  
  
Jongin undoes the tie with one hand and squeezes Sehun’s junk with the other. He waits for another confirmation and Sehun makes this impatient, needy noise.  
  
Jongin takes the tie with both hands and straightens it in his fingers.  
  
“You know what this means right,” Jongin murmurs into Sehun's ear.  
  
Sehun’s ribs heave against Jongin’s chest. “What,” he asks smally.  
  
Jongin chuckles. “It means that you think I’m good enough to make you scream.”  
  
Before Sehun can undoubtedly make a snarky protest, Jongin brings the tie against his mouth and ties it tight.  
  
“I’m leaving your hands undone,” Jongin murmurs, “If you want me to stop, pinch me.”  
  
Sehun makes a noise of annoyance -- presumably at Jongin’s tender and loving care -- and jerks his head as if to say, _get on with it._  
  
Because he knows that sometimes Junmyeon stays late and will come up to check on overtime workers, Jongin squeezes too tight, too rough -- they have to be fast but holy _fuck,_ the thought of being caught just makes Jongin tug off Sehun’s pants forcefully, yanking off his shirt.  
  
Naked now, Sehun reacts so beautifully to Jongin’s touch: his blush, spreading sweet and pink down his throat; his breathing labored; his thighs twitching and Jongin can’t stop kneading and massaging his cock, playing with him.  
  
Sehun makes a muffled groan, most of the sound caught in the makeshift gag.  
  
Since Sehun’s legs are draped over Jongin’s thighs, when Jongin pushes his knees outward, the action spreads Sehun’s thighs apart -- and that’s a fucking kink if Jongin has ever had one: Sehun’s clothes off, no underwear, no nothing; Jongin wearing all of his clothes, the material of his fabric rasping roughly against Sehun’s bare, sweaty skin. It’s so fucking hot that Jongin has to pause to keep himself in check.  
  
With his legs so broadly spread, Sehun makes a shy whimper, like he doesn’t want it.  
  
But his hands are still firmly tucked behind Jongin’s head, and his cock’s slobbering, fucking, _drooling_ with precome so Jongin just spreads his legs apart and puts him on display like that, like so fucking good, “Yeah, Sehun, you’re so fucking pretty for me, you know that? Look at you, God -- perfect, so fucking good for me -- ”  
  
Jongin shoves three fingers into his own mouth and perfunctorily covers them with spit; then drags his fingers down to where Sehun’s fully exposed, touch just light enough to graze Sehun’s entrance. “God,” Jongin breathes out reverently, “I want to fucking raw you, right here, on the ground, on this desk -- I'll tie you up and have my way with you -- you want that, Sehun? Wanna be good for me?”  
  
Sehun’s making this choking, coughing noise; Jongin’s too rough, fondling his balls with one hand and working three fingers into Sehun with the other. Sehun’s thighs are clenching, muscles too tight and Sehun’s close -- Jongin can feel his abdomen twitch.  
  
Jongin pushes him off and bends him over the table, skin pale and naked.  
  
Sehun lets out a muted cry and Jongin pushes him down, smacks his ass and Sehun _keens,_ his back arched, ass presented in the air in an imitation of -- of _lordosis behavior_ or something, like an animal in heat, elevating his hips, begging to be fucked --  
  
“I can’t make it easy for you,” Jongin breathes out, heady, doesn’t even care now that his own cock is throbbing -- all he wants to do is see Sehun’s skin blush so pretty. Sehun drives him absolutely _wild_ \--  
  
“If I made it easy, then it wouldn't be fun, would it?” Jongin squeezes Sehun’s ass and Sehun grips the table, head hanging and eyes half lidded, his lips working around the tie, which is turning darker and darker as it soaks up Sehun’s spit.  
  
Jongin creates a circle around the base of Sehun’s cock with his fingers, holding fast so that Sehun can’t come. He raises his hand and brings it down again. _Smack!_ and Sehun’s head hits the table; he moans, throaty and deep.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin answers himself, “No fun at all.”  
  
He slaps one last time and Sehun’s ass jiggles, pink and blushing.  
  
Jongin sits back down and drags Sehun back with him, in the same position as before, Sehun’s bare back pressed against Jongin’s clothed front.  
  
It must hurt Sehun’s ass but he just humps blindly into Jongin’s hand; and Jongin takes pity, tightens his grip for enough friction for Sehun to thrust up into Jongin’s palm.  
  
“Come on,” Jongin coaxes, “Come on baby, come for me.”  
  
Sehun comes with a strangled cry, body curving up into Jongin’s palm, which cradles his dribbling cock. With sweat sticking to their skin and clothes, Jongin reaches up and undoes the tie, which is now soaked in spit -- disgusting.  
  
Sehun wipes his mouth and leans his head back onto Jongin’s shoulder, mouth open and neck glistening as he breathes in deeply.  
  
Jongin presses his mouth against Sehun’s temple and wraps his arms loosely around Sehun’s waist, hugging him from behind.  
  
“You didn’t come,” Sehun says.  
  
“Not yet,” Jongin says.  
  
“Let me,” Sehun starts.  
  
“No,” Jongin says, “Just -- ”  
  
Sehun must be able to detect the change in Jongin’s tone, because he sits up and turns around, still situated in Jongin’s lap, to look him in the eye.  
  
“Are you -- ”  
  
“It’s late,” Jongin says, nudging Sehun off gently. “I think Junmyeon’s coming to check up on me any moment.”  
  
“Sorry,” Sehun says, mouth wrinkling a bit, “I didn’t think -- ”  
  
“Come on,” Jongin says softly, “Let’s get your clothes on.”  
  
Sehun’s legs are trembling when Jongin helps him put on his pants.  
  
“Are you okay?” Jongin asks, concerned.  
  
“Fine,” Sehun says, catching the corner of Jongin’s mouth with his lips. “Don’t worry so much.”  
  
“I love you,” Jongin says, as lightly as he can. As though he hadn't been thinking about it for the last half hour. As though he hadn't thought it the very first time they slept together, the very first time he woke up with Sehun's legs tangled with his.  
  
“I know,” Sehun says.  
  
There’s a knock on the door.  
  
“Jongin? Are you in there?”  
  
Sehun jerks in shock and looks at Jongin with questioning gaze: _what should I do,_ he mouths.  
  
Jongin gestures for him to wait. “Yeah, I'll be out in a minute. You head out first.”  
  
“You sure? I wanted to talk -- ”  
  
“I still have some paperwork that needs to get done. Go ahead, Junmyeon, I'll be fine.”  
  
There’s some silence before Junmyeon replies, “Fine, but don’t stay too late.”  
  
“Come on,” Jongin says to Sehun a minute later, “Let’s go.”  
  
“Do you want to come over?” Jongin asks in the elevator. There’s a ding when they come down to the main floor.  
  
“I can’t,” Sehun says awkwardly, “I have something to do for Chanyeol.”  
  
“That’s fine, I -- can I call you a cab?”  
  
Sehun’s mouth tilts. “I've got one, thank you.” They walk out and wait by the curb.  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says.  
  
“But thank you,” Sehun says again; and he touches Jongin's cheek.  
  
“Good night,” Jongin says. He remembers to smile.  
  
“Yah,” Sehun says softly tugging Jongin close. “Don’t sleep too late tonight. Go to bed early.”  
  
“Only if you do the same.”  
  
“I will,” Sehun promises.  
  
Jongin's smile widens a bit, and the taxi rolls up.  
  
“Good night,” Sehun calls out and heads to the taxi.  
  
Jongin watches it drive away before walking to the parking lot.  
  
  
  
From there on out, the workload doesn’t lighten. But they find time -- stolen moments at night, on weekends, in between projects and meetings.  
  
Their sex is fantastic -- better than ever, better than Jongin’s ever had, if he’s being honest with himself.  
  
At home, Sehun gets really mouthy and Jongin fucking loves it, the way that sharp, assertive edge bleeds into his voice and Sehun’s nostrils flare, his pulse racing.  
  
One time, when they’re in the bedroom and Jongin’s pulling off his belt, Sehun gives him this look -- and then they end up on the floor, one end of the belt tied around Sehun's hands and the other end roped around a foot of the bed, effectively knotting his wrists together and chaining them to the solid bedpost.  
  
Then Sehun's snarling and degrading Jongin's ability to fuck properly so Jongin goes, “Are you going to shut up or do you want me to fucking make you?” low and gravelly and demanding.  
  
And Sehun’s eyes dilate when he says, “If you want me quiet so badly, why you don’t you gag me?”  
  
So yeah. Sehun's sprawled out, hands tied with Jongin’s leather belt to a bedpost, his body exposed, skin pearly white and pretty and lush, legs open for the taking; a tie stuffed into his mouth and another one wrapped around just to make sure, gagging him as so politely requested. It’s like a scene straight out of _50 Shades of Gray,_ but much, much better, and Jongin’s so hard it hurts.  
  
Then Jongin fucks him like that: slowly and teasingly (slow because Sehun's gagged and his hands are bound, so there’s no way for Jongin to know if he’s being too rough and he isn’t ready for that kind of sex quite yet; and teasing because Sehun's being a little brat and fucking deserves some blue balls). Jongin doesn’t touch Sehun's cock at all, not until Sehun’s tearing up, crying out through the gag, cheeks pink and eyelashes decorated with fat tears.  
  
Jongin comes inside Sehun and it feels fantastic: Sehun sucking him in, come splashing inside him, filling him up, animalistic and possessive and Jongin marking his territory, part of his brain whispers.  
  
Selfish -- Jongin’s so selfish; he wants to hear Sehun plead so Jongin rips off the gag just in time to hear Sehun beg: “Jongin, please let me come -- I need it so badly -- ” His voice is wrecked and that shouldn’t turn Jongin on, but it _does_ and it’s so hot.  
  
“I’m not sure you really do,” Jongin rasps looking down at where Sehun's writhing almost painfully his cock's swollen, engorged, and angry.  
  
“I do,” Sehun croaks. There’s spittle drying on his face and his eyes are red-rimmed, his cock absolutely drooling dumbly all over his stomach but they both need it so bad --  
  
Jongin squeezes the base of Sehun’s cock to keep him from coming as he slurps Sehun’s cock into his mouth; it’s must be the most exquisite kind of torture since Jongin teases and twirls his tongue and touches the tip of Sehun’s cock to the spongy back of his throat but _refuses_ to let Sehun come until Sehun’s throat’s raw from screaming and there’re red angry welts against his wrists where the leather bit his skin.  
  
Like he said -- pretty damn fantastic.  
  
Afterwards, Jongin’s always as careful and as kind as he can be: he undoes the belt gently and kisses Sehun in increments: first against the nose, on the cheek; then on the mouth; then they’re curling up on the bed pressed breastbone to sternum, entwining like snakes do to keep warm.  
  
  
  
Anyway, the sex doesn’t leave much time for anything else. Everything is -- fine. Just, busy. With all of the work they’ve been doing, it’s hard to talk. Sehun’s just as stressed as Jongin, trying to juggle work while maintaining a facade, while both of them do their respective research about EXO: Jongin compiles list upon list, account upon account of meeting with members of EXO, writing down everything he can remember, scouring emails and journals to find as much as he can; Sehun sits next to Jongin, either on the comfortable couch in Jongin’s penthouse or on Sehun’s bed, and scours through everything leaked online to try and find connections in the data.  
  
They have work to do. Jongin pushes it down. They’ll talk about it later.


End file.
